


we're gonna have the best life, you and me (we're gonna be so happy)

by ProbablyVoldemort



Series: How to Save a Life [1]
Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Character Death, F/M, Hospitals, Inspired by Grey's Anatomy, Major Character Injury, So much angst, descriptions of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 04:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16527365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyVoldemort/pseuds/ProbablyVoldemort
Summary: Clarke was on a plane, headed for a surgery.  Now she's in the forest, and Octavia can't find her shoe.  They can't find Bellamy or Murphy, either.





	we're gonna have the best life, you and me (we're gonna be so happy)

**Author's Note:**

> Got a prompt for a hospital au and I've been watching a hella lot of Grey's Anatomy so this is what happened.
> 
> This is angst. Pure and simple angst. It's based on the plane crash episode of Grey's Anatomy, so I think that says enough.

Sky.

That was all she could see.  Blue sky peeking out through trees.

It was pretty, but it wasn’t.

There shouldn’t be sky.  She shouldn’t be seeing sky up.  Sideways, maybe, out the window.  But not up.

It didn’t make sense.  She was on a plane.  There should be plane between her and the sky.  But there wasn’t.

She sat up, her fingers digging into the dirt.

She definitely wasn’t on the plane.

There was a piece of it near her, but she wasn’t on it.  There was another piece a bit further away, and it was on fire.  That should tell her something, that the plane was in pieces, but it didn’t.

She stood up, trying to figure out where she was, what had happened.  Someone was screaming.  Maybe it was her.  She didn’t think it was, but it could be.

“I lost my shoe.”

There was Octavia.  She was right.  She only had one shoe on, the other foot just in a sock.  That was weird.  Her sock was going to get dirty.  And what if she stepped in a puddle?  Wet socks were gross.  Why would Octavia lose her shoe and risk it?

One of her arms was too long, hanging down below her knee.  Dislocated.  Weird.

She was talking to Emori.  Emori had blood in her hair and on her face and one of her pant legs was ripped open.

Why were they hurt?  Was _she_ hurt?

Clarke glanced down at herself, taking in her scrubs.  No blood.  Just some dirt.  She was okay.  That was good.

Someone was still screaming.  It definitely wasn’t her.  Who was it?

She moved around, stumbling over another piece of the plane as she tried to find the screamer.

“Where’s John?” Emori asked.

“I can’t find my shoe,” Octavia answered.

It was Raven.  Raven was screaming.  Raven was laying on the ground, covered in blood, screaming.

“Where’s Bellamy?” Clarke asked, but her voice wouldn’t work properly, the words barely coming out.

Octavia screamed to shut up, and Raven stopped screaming.

“Where’s Bellamy?” Clarke asked again, her voice working this time.  Raven just stared at her.

Something was banging.  Clarke ignored it.  She had to find Bellamy.  There was a tree that was on fire, and more pieces of the plane, but no Bellamy.  Where was he?  Why was the plane in pieces?

“Shut up!” Octavia yelled again, presumably at the banging.  It didn’t listen.  “Shut up!  Where’s my shoe?”

“Where is it coming from?” Emori asked.  She reached up to touch her head.  “I think I’m bleeding.”

Clarke was staring at Raven again, at her blood and her eyes.  She lifted a hand and pointed.  Her hand was dirty and bloody and shaking.

“It’s coming from over there,” she said.

“John!” Emori yelled, and started walking.  Clarke looked away from Raven and followed, stumbling again and again because her legs refused to work right and there were so many plane pieces just lying there.

Octavia came, too, looking under pieces of plane for her shoe as they went.  The banging got louder, and Clarke’s brain started to get less foggy.

The plane was in pieces and they were in the middle of a forest.  The plane _crashed_ and they were in the middle of nowhere.  Raven and Emori were covered in blood and Octavia had a dislocated shoulder and Bellamy and Murphy were missing and, somehow, she was _fine._

Emori yelled for Murphy again, as they found another piece of the plane.  A big piece with an engine attached.  And a wing.  Maybe.  She didn’t really know anything about planes.

The banging was louder, too, and—there!

There was a hand, coming out from under the piece of plane.  The hand was holding something, another piece of the plane or a rock or something, Clarke couldn’t really tell, but she could tell who the hand belonged to.

“Bellamy,” she whispered, and then she yelled it, taking off in a stumbling run towards the plane part.

“Oh, god,” Octavia muttered, and she could hear them following behind, Emori still yelling for Murphy.

She threw herself on the ground by Bellamy’s hand, crawling on her belly under the edge of the plane where the rest of him was.

“Bellamy,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke his face, brush some of the blood off his forehead.  “Bellamy.”

Bellamy grinned at her, his teeth red with his blood.  “Hey, Princess.”

Clarke took a moment to assess him.  The plane was on top of him, pressing him into the dirt, from partway down his stomach.  It also covered one of his arms.  There was a large, weeping gash across his forehead, and blood was trickling from his mouth.

It didn’t look good.

“How is he?” Octavia asked, and Clarke glanced over her shoulder.

“He’s awake and responsive,” Clarke said, because that was about all of Bellamy’s current condition that looked good and she was going to focus on that.

“How’re you doing?” she asked him, stroking his face.  Bellamy closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing into her touch.

“I’m good,” he told her, his voice gurglier than she would have liked.

She smiled back at him, nodding.  “That’s good,” she told him, pretending his eyes weren’t bloodshot.  “We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?”

Bellamy nodded in agreement, and Clarke retreated from under the plane.  She stood up, taking in Emori and Octavia.

“He’s tachycardic and short of breath,” she told them, and Octavia nodded.

“I need to find John,” Emori said, glancing around at the forest.

Octavia told her to go look for him, that they were fine, and then she was gone.

Clarke was out of breath.  She was in good shape and she hadn’t been running, so she shouldn’t be.  Right?  It was probably the stress.  She was just stressed out.  She’d just been in a plane crash in the middle of nowhere, so of course she was stressed out.

She had to get Bellamy out from under the plane, and then she’d be less stressed out.  She had to get him out if he was going to be okay.  But how could they do it?

“Pop it back in.”

Clarke blinked, focusing back on Octavia.  “What?”

“My shoulder.”  Octavia grimaced, pulling her hair away from her shoulder.  “Pop it back in.”

Right.  Her shoulder was dislocated.  That would hurt.

Clarke nodded and grabbed onto Octavia’s shoulder, and she cried out, telling her to wait.  Clarke didn’t listen.  She’d worked in ortho for years.  You didn’t wait when the patient said to wait.  You put the joint back in place when they least expected it.  They tensed up when they were ready, and then it hurt more.

So she didn’t wait.  She popped it back in place, and Octavia screamed.

They made a sling.  Octavia had a hoodie wrapped around her waist, and it made as good a sling as anything.  Clarke tied it up, situating her arm, and nodded.

“I think that should be good.”

Octavia nodded, too, and glanced around.  “Have you seen my shoe?”

“No.”  Clarke was staring at the piece of the plane again, trying to figure out how they were going to move it.  “We need to get Bellamy out.”

Clarke wasn’t sure whose idea it was, but they ended up situating their shoulders under the edge of the plane.  The plan was to lift it enough for Bellamy to wiggle out.  It would’ve been easier if there were more of them, if they could get more leverage, if Octavia could use both arms, but this was what they had.

“On three,” Clarke said, grabbing the plane.  “One, two, three!”

It didn’t move, barely even budged.  She was panting again, harder than before, but at least now there was a reason.

“Again,” she said, and, again, nothing happened.

Bellamy let out a noise that was half a sob and half a cry, and Clarke refused to let her heart break a little.

“Bellamy.”  Octavia crouched down by the plane, reaching under to hold her brother’s hand with her good one.  “Bellamy, what’re you feeling?”

“My—my legs and my p—pelvis are cru—ushed,” he told her, haltingly, panting through the words.  Clarke closed her eyes, pressing her fingers against her forehead.  “They hurt.  So much.  I can’t—I can’t feel my other arm.  I don’t know if it’s—if it’s e—even there.  My chest.  My chest feels like it’s going to ex—explode, O.  Probably—probably hemothorax.”

Clarke opened her eyes, shaking her head.  “We gotta—there’s oxygen on the plane, Octavia,” she said, crouching down and grabbing Octavia’s good shoulder.  “We gotta get that.  He needs it.  And fluids.  Water.  There’s water bottles, right?  There has to be water bottles.  He needs those, too.  And tubes.  Oxygen tubes.  He needs oxygen.  We can do this.  We can give him fluids and—and oxygen, okay?  So go get them.  I’ll stay with Bellamy.  Go get them.”  Octavia just sat there, staring at her.  “Why aren’t you doing anything?”

“She knows.”

Clarke’s gaze snapped to Bellamy.  His chest was rising quickly, not in any particular rhythm.

“What?  She knows what?”

Bellamy shook his head, offering her a sad, bloody smile.  “It won’t help.”

“No.”  Clarke pushed past Octavia, pushing just far enough under the plane to grab his hand.  “No, you’re going to be fine, Bellamy.  You’re gonna be okay.”  He shook his head.  “Stop.  You’re going to be fine.”  Her voice broke on the last word and she turned to look at Octavia, who still hadn’t moved.  “Go!”

Octavia bolted to her feet and ran off, mumbling about her shoe again as she left. 

Clarke let go of Bellamy’s hand, crawling back under the plane to stroke his face again.  “You’re going to be fine,” she told him.  “Octavia’s gonna be back real soon, and we’re gonna get you out of there and you’re gonna be fine.”

“Clarke.”

“No, Bell.”  Clarke shook her head, giving him a smile that she knew was watery.  Bellamy coughed, blood spewing out of his mouth, and she wiped it away with her hand when he was finished. 

“Clarke.”

“It’ll just be a few minutes, okay?”  She looked back over her shoulder, waiting for Octavia to reappear.  “Just have to wait a couple minutes and Octavia will be back and we’ll fix you up, okay?”

“Princess.”  Clarke glanced back at him, at his glassy, bloodshot eyes.  He smiled, blood still hanging off his teeth.  “I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not.”

Bellamy closed his eyes, and that was worse.  “I am.”  His voice was barely a whisper now, his chest heaving.

“No, you’re not,” Clarke repeated, stronger this time, and Bellamy looked at her again.  “You’re not, okay?  Octavia’s gonna be back any minute, and we’re gonna fix you.”

Bellamy shook his head.  “I’m dying,” he told her, his voice breaking.  “Please—please, Prince—cess, tell—tell O I love her.”  Clarke shook her head, trying to keep her own tears in as Bellamy’s started to fall.  “I know she’s—mad and I—I still kind of—kind of hate her, but I love—love her.  And she’s a good—”

“You’re not dying,” Clarke interrupted, staring at him in shock.  Why would he even think that?  He wasn’t dying.  He couldn’t be dying.  She wouldn’t let him.  “You’re gonna be fine.  I promise.”

Bellamy’s face scrunched up, and he moved his hand closer to her.  “Hold my hand,” he whispered, his eyes pleading with her.

Clarke pulled back, shaking her head.  “I’m not holding your hand because you’re not dying,” she told him decisively.

“Hold my hand.”  Bellamy’s voice broke on the words, and he stretched his hand out further.

“No.”  Clarke leveled him with a glare.  “You’re not dying, okay?  You’re not dying.”

She pushed herself back out from under the plane, climbing to her feet.  She grabbed the edge, pushing with all her might.

She could move this plane.  It was possible.  She’d once had a woman who’d lifted a car off her kid.  Sure, she’d broken a lot of bones in her arms and legs, but she’d done it.  It was possible.

She screamed as she tried to lift it, the sound echoing in the empty forest around them, but the plane refused to move.  She tried again and again, but the result was the same every single time.  She finally collapsed, panting, against the plane, burying her face in her hands.

She couldn’t do.  She couldn’t move the plane.  She couldn’t get it off Bellamy.

She took another moment to regain her breath, and the crawled back under the plane, grabbing his hand tightly between both of hers.

Bellamy’s eyes were even more glassy, more blood was splattered across his chin, and tears slipped from his eyes as he smiled at her.

“I love you,” she whispered, returning his smile with a watery one of her own.  “I love you, Bell, so you’re not allowed to die today.”

He shook his head, grinning at her.  “You don’t—you don’t have to say that just—just because I did,” he told her, and she pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

“I love you,” she said again, smiling wider in response to his, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.  “I love you so much, Bell.  I’m in love with you.  I’ve always loved you.  I’ll always love you, okay?  Forever.”

“Yeah?”  Bellamy’s grin was wide, tears running across his face.

She nodded.  “Yeah,” she told him, squeezing his hand tighter.  “That’s why you have to stay alive, okay?  We need to get married, for real this time.  Not like when we got drunk and Murphy officiated.”  Bellamy laughed, shaking his head.  “For real.  A real marriage with flowers and rings and cake and everything, okay?  We’re gonna get married.  I promise.  And then we’ll have some kids.”

“So—” Bellamy broke off, coughing again, more blood splattering out.  His words were slow, interspersed with panting.  “So Madi can have siblings.”

Clarke nodded, choking on a sob.  “Yeah.  Little sisters and brothers.”

Bellamy grinned, and Clarke could tell he couldn’t see her anymore, his eyes blank and his gaze fixed just over her shoulder.  “That sounds nice.”

Clarke bit her lip, gripping his hands tighter so he’d know she was still there.  “We’re gonna—we’re gonna be so happy, Bell,” she sobbed, pressing kisses against his fingers.  “You and me.  Together.”

“Together,” Bellamy repeated, the word so faint it could hardly count as a word.

“We’re gonna have the best life, Bell,” Clarke whispered, still returning his smile.  “You and me.  We’re gonna be so happy.  I promise.  But that means you can’t die, okay?  You can’t die.”  The words were muffled around a sob.  “We’re supposed to be together, Bell.  Forever.  You and me.  We’re meant to be.  Forever.”

Bellamy’s grin grew, even as his chest slowed down.  “Forever.”

Clarke sobbed, clutching his hand, as his chest shuddered in a few last breaths.  And then it was still, he was still, everything was still, and he was gone.  His eyes were open, glassy and blank, staring through her, and she reached out a shaky hand to brush them shut.

“I love you,” she whispered, the words lost on the sob that accompanied them.  “I love you, Bell.”

She repeated them again and again, running her hands over his face, trying to memorize every last inch of him.  She pressed kisses to his hand, to his wrist, every part of him she could reach, whispering her love over and over through her sobs.

That was how Octavia and Emori found her, who knows how long later.

Octavia was yelling something, but Clarke couldn’t hear, couldn’t think.  She let her push her aside, still clinging to Bellamy’s hand, and cried as Octavia yelled.

He was gone.  Bellamy was dead.  She loved him and he was dead.

Eventually, she stopped crying.  She’d run out of tears, out of feelings, out of everything.  She was just as dead inside as Bellamy was.

She sat, her back against the piece of the plane, Bellamy’s hand still gripped in hers, and stared out into the forest.

Octavia was crying, loud, heaving sobs, and Emori wasn’t saying anything.  They hadn’t come back with Murphy, and Clarke vaguely wondered what that was about, where he was, if he was alright.

She didn’t feel anything.

She didn’t feel anything when Emori convinced Octavia to leave, to help her look for Murphy.

She didn’t feel anything when they returned, dragging Murphy between them, unconscious.

She did notice the gash on his arm, the bone that was sticking out, vaguely, but didn’t move to help until Emori snapped at her.  Even then, she just reset the bones without saying anything, as well as she could without any x-rays, and directed Emori and Octavia to stitch him up while she moved back to her post.

She picked up Bellamy’s hand again, cradling it in her lap.  It was cold now.  That wasn’t right.  He was always so warm, even when it was snowing out.  He wasn’t supposed to be cold.

She was panting again, her chest heaving with every breath.  It hurt, god it hurt.  This wasn’t good.

She tried to call out, tried to call for Emori, but she couldn’t get enough air to speak, and it wouldn’t have been loud enough over Murphy’s screams as they sewed shut his arm anyway.

Her vision started to fade, and all she could think was that she was going to see Bellamy again a lot sooner than she’d thought.

 

She woke with a scream of pain, to Murphy’s knees around her head, holding it still, and a sharp pain in her chest.

“Needle,” Emori said.  “Uh, straw?”

Murphy’s hand stroked her hair as she struggled to move, his knees tightening.  “It’s okay,” he told her.  “You’re gonna be okay, Clarke, but you need to stay still.”

There was a mask over her face, the smell of oxygen strong as it rushed into her lungs.

“How sure are you that this is what’s wrong?” Murphy asked.

“I dunno.”  Emori paused, and Clarke grunted in pain at whatever was poking her chest.  “Seventy five percent?  Seventy percent?”

“That’s not good enough,” Murphy snapped.  “How are you fucking head of cardio if you're not more sure than that?”

“Do you have a fucking ultrasound in your pocket?” Emori snapped back.  “Unless you do, this is as sure as I’m gonna get.  Now, shut up so I don’t puncture her heart.”

Something jabbed into her chest, and Clarke screamed out in pain.  They did something to whatever was stuck in her chest, jostling it around just enough for it to hurt, and then she passed out again.

 

“Where’s Bellamy?”

It was Raven’s voice.  Somehow they’d gotten back to Raven.  She could see a bit of her face in the corner of her vision, blood still covering her.

Clarke felt tight, like something was wrapped around her, holding her still, and her chest hurt like a bitch.

“Where’s Bellamy?” Raven repeated, her voice raising.

Clarke closed her eyes again.  “Bellamy’s dead.”

Octavia and Murphy were talking about starting a fire.  Emori was rearranging Clarke’s head to fit a seat cushion under it.

“Shh,” Raven snapped, and Clarke glanced over, noticing the tourniquet around her leg.  “Shh!  Do you hear that?”

Clarke couldn’t hear anything, but she seemed to be the only one.

“A helicopter,” Emori breathed, and Clarke’s gaze bounced back to her as she closed her eyes in relief.  “We can get out of here.”

Clarke didn’t do anything but lay there as everyone yelled, as the flare gun didn’t work, as they yelled louder and louder until the helicopter was gone.  Raven stroked her forehead, and Clarke faded back into unconsciousness.

 

She woke a few more times.  Sometimes she was fine, and she drank the water that Raven thrust at her face and ate the bits of granola bars and berries that Murphy dropped in her mouth.  She tried to forget how long she’d been lying there, wrapped up tightly, and how disgusting she must be under whatever was holding her together, and talked Emori through setting Raven’s leg instead.

Most times, though, she woke up because Emori had just restarted her heart and Octavia was screaming that she wasn’t allowed to die, too.

Once, it was night when she woke, and Raven was laying next to her, staring up at the stars.

“I should’ve told him sooner,” she whispered, and Raven glanced over at her.  “Bellamy.  I should’ve told him I loved him right when he told me.  But I didn’t.  I waited too long and now he’s gone.”

Raven sat up, grimacing as she did so, and stroked her hair.  “I think he knew.”

Clarke shook her head, sighing sadly.  “He didn’t.”

She closed her eyes, feeling her chest tighten.  This was it.  She was dying.  She could see him again.

“Clarke.  Clarke, I need you to hold on, okay?”  She opened her eyes, staring up into Raven’s.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she whispered, smiling at Raven.  “You don’t need me.”

“Shut up.”  Raven pinched her ear, and Clarke’s head jerked.  “Shut up, Clarke.  You’re not dying.”

“Bellamy’s waiting for me,” she said, closing her eyes again, her smile growing.  “We’ll be together again.  I’ll be okay, Raven.”

“No.”  Raven pinched her ear again.  “No.  Clarke Griffin, you are not dying.  Do you hear me?  No.  _Madi_ ’s waiting for you.”  Clarke’s eyes drifted open again.  “Madi’s waiting for you, okay?  And I am waiting for you.  We’re gonna go home together, okay?  I need you better so you can fix my leg.  You’re not allowed to die, Clarke.  We’re in this together, okay?”

Clarke took a deep, painful breath, her eyes drifting shut as the darkness took over once more.  “Okay.”

 

She woke again, briefly, and was confused.  They weren’t outside.  There was a loud whirring noise.  Someone was shouting something, and something pricked her arm.  Then it was dark again.

 

The first time she woke in the first hospital, some unknown doctor was there, telling her about her injuries, that they’d done surgery on her.  Did she remember her name?  Where was she?  What had happened?  So many questions. 

The words left her as soon as she heard them, and she was drifting away.

 

Kane was there the next time, standing near the door and talking to the doctor from before.

She made some noise, or the monitor made a noise, or something, but he looked over and then he was at her side.

“You’re okay, Clarke,” he told her, holding her hand.  She didn’t feel okay.  Her chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it, and her head was all fuzzy.  “We’re gonna get you home soon, okay?”

She nodded, and he lifted a cup with a straw and she made herself drink some water until her throat wasn’t too dry to speak.

“How are they?” she asked.  “The others.”

Kane put the cup back on a table and held her hand again.  “Emori is fine, mostly,” he said, and Clarke nodded.  That made sense.  Emori seemed to be the least injured of them all while they were out there.  “She’s got a concussion and needed some stitches, but that’s it.  Murphy’s arm is pretty bad.  He’s been in and out of surgery.”

“I set the bone,” Clarke murmured, her eyes already trying to droop shut.  “I couldn’t get an x-ray.”

“You did good,” Kane told her, and she was fairly sure that was a lie.  “Octavia’s fine, physically.  Her shoulder is healing.  Emori said it was dislocated?”  Clarke nodded, forcing her eyes open again.  “She’s…she’s catatonic.  She hasn’t said anything or moved, really, since they found you guys, unless she’s lashing out.  Lincoln’s with her.”  Clarke nodded again.  That was good.  Lincoln was good for Octavia.  He’d help her get better.  “Raven—”

“They had to cut it off,” Clarke guessed, interrupting him.  Kane paused for a moment, then nodded.  “I thought so.  The infection was looking pretty bad.  How pissed is she?”

Kane shrugged, offering her a small smile.  “She’s been in a medically induced coma, so not very,” he told her.

Clarke closed her eyes, ready to drift off again now that she knew how the others were doing.

Kane sighed, squeezing her hand.  “Bellamy,” he started, then stopped, as if he wasn’t chief of surgery, as if he didn’t know how to give the bad news to the families.

“Bellamy’s dead,” Clarke said, saving him the trouble.  Her voice was flat.  She’d lost the last of her emotions days ago, too tired to feel anything but emptiness.  “I watched him die, Chief.  I know.”

 

She woke up to Emori stroking her arm, staring off into the distance.

“They’re taking us home,” she said, once she noticed she was awake.  “In a few hours.  I told them no planes, but you and Raven aren’t well enough to travel any other way, so they’re going to sedate all of us.”

Clarke nodded, the sudden surge of fear the only emotion she’d felt in far too long.  She flexed her hand, and Emori’s eyes darted down to it before enclosing it with her own.

They sat there in silence, holding hands and waiting, until a nurse came in.

“It’s time,” he said, and then he was injecting something into her IV and then it was dark again.

 

Everything was shaking.  She was strapped to a bed and everything was loud and shaking.

She managed to lift her head enough to see the others in front of her, all strapped to their own beds.  She lay back down and closed her eyes, trying to swallow her panic.

It was okay.  They were on a plane and it was in the sky, but it was okay.  It wasn’t going to crash.  That was highly improbably.  They were going to be okay.

She opened her eyes again and rolled her head to the side, trying to see the face of whoever was strapped in next to her.

But the bed beside her held a black bag, zipped up tight.

A body bag.

Bellamy.

She let out a cry, and the person sitting next to his head glanced down at her, eyes widening when she saw her looking back.  The woman said something, and then her IV twitched and she was fading away.

 

The next time she woke, she was back in Arkadia.  She couldn’t tell how she knew, but she knew.

Roan was there, sitting in a chair by her bed and holding her hand.

“I flew to TonDC,” he told her, stroking her skin, tears leaking down his face.  “I was there, but they wouldn’t let me in.”

“It’s not fair,” she mumbled, looking past him.  She couldn’t look at him, not right now, not when she was about to do what she was about to do.  “You deserve better.”

He stood up, cupping her face, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, trying to smile at her, like he thought smiling might make her better.  “It’s okay, Clarke.  I’m here.  I’ll always be here, okay?  I’m not going anywhere.  I love you.”

Clarke sighed.  “I love Bellamy,” she whispered back, hating herself as she watched his smile fall.  She swallowed and closed her eyes.  “Loved, I guess.  I loved Bellamy and I never told him until he was dying and now he’s dead.”  She paused, peeking at him and shaking her head.  “I’m sorry.”

She closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep.  It was a shitty move, and she was pretty sure Roan could tell from her heart monitor that she was actually conscious, but he eventually left.  She let herself cry until she was asleep for real.

 

Miller came by every once in a while.  He’d taken over all her cases while she was out.  It was good.  He was going to be her fellow anyway, so this was a good way for him to start learning some responsibility.

“Check this out,” he told her, interrupting her book as he waltzed into the room.  She took the offered x-rays, holding them one by one up to the lights, and gasped.

“Is that—?”

“A man who was trampled in the Black Friday sales this morning?” he finished, grinning at her.  “You bet.”

“What’s this?” she asked, pointing at a dark shape sticking out of the man’s leg.  “It looks like a high heel?”

“That’s because it is.”  Miller took the x-ray back, holding it so he could see it himself, and grinned.  “I love Black Friday.”

 

Raven didn’t come to see her often.  Even with the strings they could’ve pulled, Raven didn’t need a bed in the ICU, which meant she had to make the trek through the hospital herself, which apparently wasn’t the easiest thing with only one leg.

She was balancing on her crutches, swinging herself back and forth from her armpits.

“The interns call her Medusa,” she was saying about Emori, eyes flashing.  She’d taken it upon herself to stay up to date on all the gossip and relay it to Clarke.  “They’re terrified of her.  It’s hilarious.”

“Good.”  Clarke laughed, taking a spoonful of her pudding.  “They should be scared.”

“Oh, did anyone tell you what Octavia did?”

Clarke sat up straighter, trying not to wince at the pain in her chest, and shook her head.  “Is she back?”

“No.”  Raven sighed, then grinned.  “She threw a lamp at some interns this morning.  Murphy saw and said it was priceless.  He thinks one of them wet their pants.”

Clarke laughed, ignoring how much it hurt.  “They probably deserved it.”

“Probably,” Raven agreed.  She put her foot back on the ground, her face growing serious.  “Psych didn’t think it was so funny.  They think she should be moved.  Lincoln’s not gonna let that happen, though, and he’s taking her home tomorrow.”  She pursed her lips.  “Leave of absence.”

Clarke nodded and didn’t say anything, finishing her pudding in silence.

“Oh!” Raven brightened up.  “Half the nurses have syphilis.  It’s hilarious.  I think Jasper started it, but there’s a bet going on if you want in.”

 

Murphy was complaining about the peds surgeon they’d gotten to replace him while his hand healed, but Clarke knew he was really complaining about how he couldn’t be in the OR.  They’d said they could get his hand back to 80%, but it was taking too long.

She was frustrated, too.  She’d looked at the x-rays.  If she hadn’t been stuck in bed, she could’ve fixed him so much quicker.

“You’ll be back in there soon,” Clarke told him, and Murphy shook his head.

“No, I won’t.”  He was pacing.  Murphy only paced when he was really worried, like when they’d thought they’d lost his little sister at the park when they were eight, or when he was trying to decide if it was the right time to propose to Emori.  “I’ll just be a stupid research librarian.”

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “Shut up.”

He stopped pacing, sighing instead.  “Clarke—”

“No.  You’re gonna get better, and you’re gonna be in there saving kids again like a fucking superhero,” Clarke told him.  “Let’s make a bet.  I get back in there before you, you owe me babysitting any night I ask for a month.”

Murphy rolled his eyes, but he was grinning, so Clarke counted it as a win.  “Fine,” he agreed.  “But when I win, you have to help me build my deck.  Without complaining.”

Clarke grinned back, reaching out a hand for him to grasp.  “Deal.”

Murphy shook and then dropped her hand.  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said, and she nodded.

“Me too.”  She jabbed him in the side.  “Now it’s your turn to get better, so hurry up.”

 

Emori brought in Madi, once, sneaking her into the ICU.

“Look who I brought,” she called out, stepping through the door.

Clarke had just woken up a few minutes before and was kind of groggy, but the sight of her baby in Emori’s arms was more than enough to wake her up immediately.

“Hi, baby,” she cooed, reaching out as Emori stepped closer.  Madi’s own small arms reached out, and Clarke held her daughter tightly to her chest.  “Are you having fun staying with Auntie Emori?”

“Mama,” Madi whispered, her tiny fists tangling in Clarke’s hair.

She closed her eyes against the sudden onset of tears.  She pressed a kiss against her daughter’s temple, rocking her against her.

“That’s right, baby,” she whispered back.  “Mama’s here.  Mama’s got you.”

 

She was bad, for a few weeks.  Barely conscious and unable to keep down any food even when she was.

Raven had been released a couple of days before she got bad, but had taken up residence at her bed, living in the chair there.  She told her to get better, that she was making her look like a bad godmother since Madi was still at the Murphys’.

Roan was in and out, usually when she was mostly unconscious, not quite asleep but not awake enough either for it to be known.  He’d stroke her hair and whisper words she could never remember.  But she could remember the bad taste his promises left in her mouth.

Octavia hadn’t been to see her, but Lincoln had.  He told her she was better, that she was talking and moving and was better.  Clarke wasn’t conscious enough to respond, but she’d squeezed his hand.

Miller told her about their cases, and Kane told her stories about her mother from when they were younger, and Emori told her stories about Madi, and Murphy tried to bribe her with food if she’d just wake up, if she’d get better, he’d make her anything she wanted.

She’d just drift off to sleep again without responding.

 

She was better.

She was actually feeling better, and she was going to get better and go back to surgery and be herself again and get out of this stupid hospital bed.

Raven wasn’t there when she woke up feeling fantastic.  Miller told her he’d sent her home to sleep.

“Get her down here,” she told him, grinning.  “She doesn’t want to miss out on the party, does she?”

She didn’t know what kind of party she was talking about, but it didn’t matter.  She felt amazing, and getting better was surely a cause for a party, wasn’t it?

Miller obliged and ran out of the room.

This was good. This was so good.  She was getting better, and then she could see her baby again and go home and do surgery and get a scary nickname from the interns.

This was good.

She was still basking in the goodness of everything when he walked by her door.

“Roan!” she shouted, and he paused, glancing inside before actually stepping into her room.

“What’s up?” he asked, his face guarded.  Clarke hated that she’d made him like that, that his sadness was entirely her fault.

“What do you got going on today?” she asked instead, trying to alleviate the weirdness between them by completely ignoring the subject.  That was something she was good at.  Ignoring subjects.  “Anything cool?”

Roan shrugged and took a moment before sitting down next to her, apparently deciding that she must just want someone to talk to.

“I’ve got a boob job in a couple hours,” he said, and Clarke frowned.  Boob jobs weren’t cool.  He did at least a dozen of them a week.  They were boring.  “She wants them really big.”

“How big?” Clarke asked, her eyes widening as Roan held his hands out in front of him to demonstrate.  “Shit.  That’s a lot of boob.”

Roan laughed, and Clarke smiled.  He had a nice laugh.  She’d always liked his laugh.

“She’s not being pressured into it or anything,” he told her.  “No boyfriend or girlfriend.  She just really wants to pay a lot of money for extremely large boobs.”

“That’s ridiculous.”  Clarke shook her head.  “She’s gonna have so many back problems.”

“I warned her,” he assured her.  “But when she does, I’ll be sure to refer her to you.”

Clarke snorted.  “Thanks.  I appreciate the business.” 

She paused, taking in Roan.  He looked like shit, honestly.  Of course, that wasn’t exactly the truth.  He always looked amazing.  He’d told her once that you wouldn’t want a plastic surgeon who wasn’t pretty, and she had conceded that he kind of had a point.

But, to someone who knew him, he looked like shit.  There were slight bags under his eyes.  His hair wasn’t quite perfectly in place.  His scrubs were wrinkled.

He looked like shit.

And it was definitely her fault.

It wasn’t entirely things she could control, sure.  She couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through while they were still in the woods, and it wasn’t like she was the only one he was worried about even now.

But she also didn’t help matters by telling him she was in love with someone else, by breaking up with him the first moment she could while not actually saying she was breaking up with him.

None of this was fair on him.

“You’re amazing,” she told him matter of factly.  It was an important thing to hear.  They both knew what it was like to grow up with famous surgeons for mothers.  It wasn’t something you heard a lot.  She sighed, reaching out to grab his hands where they rested on the edge of her bed.  “I’m so sorry, Roan.  You don’t deserve this.  You deserve someone better than me.”  He opened his mouth to say something, to protest or agree, she didn’t know, but she steamrolled on.  “You do.  You deserve someone at least as amazing as you are, okay?  Don’t settle for anyone less than fantastic.  Promise me.”

He stared at her for a moment before nodding.  “Okay.  I promise.”

She nodded back, satisfied.  “Good.”

Roan looked like he wanted to say more, but screaming came from the hall at that moment.

“Why the fuck did you make me go home, Miller?  I knew something would happen!  Is she okay?  Did she code?”

“Just come see.”

“No!  Miller, just tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Clarke grinned at Raven and Miller and Zeke as they stopped in the doorway, Miller grinning back and Zeke and Raven completely frozen.  Clarke vaguely wondered what Miller had said on the phone that got Raven here in her wheelchair.  She hated it and preferred the crutches whenever she could.

But it didn’t matter, because they were here now.

“Reyes!  Shaw!  Ready to join the party?”

 

They were talking about her, outside her room.  She could tell.  Emori had run a bunch of tests, and the stats they’d told her had been good, really good, but they were still talking about her.

Raven was in her wheelchair next to the bed, gliding back and forth and just grinning at her.  Roan had been called down to the ER for a consult, so it was just the two of them.

But Clarke couldn’t concentrate on Raven because they were talking about her.  Kane and Emori and Murphy and Miller and Shaw and some interns she didn’t know.  They were talking about her, and she didn’t know why.

Raven distracted her with pictures of Madi, and she forgot they were talking about her.

 

Lincoln came in a while later, to tell her he was glad she was getting better, that he and Octavia had been waiting for her to be better for they left.  They had job offers in Polis, and were leaving later today.

Octavia couldn’t come to the hospital.  She couldn’t step foot inside, blamed all the bad things that had happened to them while they were here on the building itself.

So they were leaving.  Going to Polis to start over.

Clarke said her goodbyes and said to pass them onto Octavia, to tell her she’d come visit when she was better, and then he was gone.

 

Murphy was there, for a few minutes, and told her he’d get a cake and some pizza sent over for after he woke up from surgery.  It was the last one, the one that would hopefully get his hand working again.

She wished him luck and told him she expected ice cream cake, and then he was gone.

Emori hung around a little longer, but she told her to go when it was clear she wanted to be observing Murphy’s surgery.

She talked with Raven and Roan for a while, but then someone in the ER needed Raven’s second opinion on a head injury and Roan had to go give some chick some really big boobs, so she was alone again.

It was just as well.  Her chest was getting heavy, and she’d started to have trouble hiding how much every breath hurt.  She found the button and released some extra morphine.

 

Miller was outlining the surgery he’d just finished, how this girl had broken almost all the bones in her foot doing parkour.  She hadn’t woken up yet, and it was going to be a long time before she could walk again, if she’d ever be able to, and Miller liked to practice what he was going to say to patients when delivering news.

“No.”  Clarke cut him off, shaking her head.  “She’s a person, Miller.  She’s going through a big change, and she’s scared and she’s worried, and she’s a person.  People worry about so many things, but we get to help them take away that worry.  It’s why we’re doctors.  Sometimes we forget that all that matters is people.  We control whether we make them better or worse, Miller.  We control it.”  She had no idea if anything she was saying was making sense, or even why she was saying, but she just knew she had to.  Miller had to understand this, before it was too late.  “Promise me something, Miller.  If you love someone, tell them, okay?  Even if you’re scared that it’s not the right time, or that it’ll cause problems, or even that it’ll burn your whole life to the ground, you tell them.  You say it and you say it loud, and then you go from there.”

She stopped, a sudden pain shooting through her chest.  It’d been burning since the others were still there, maybe half an hour ago, and she’d been pretending it wasn’t.

“Where’s Madi?” she yelled, disguising the cry of pain she’d really wanted to let out.  “Where’s my daughter?  Go get her for me, Miller.  I want to see her.”

Miller had jumped back, shocked by her sudden change in topic and volume.  “I can’t bring a baby into the ICU,” he pointed out, and Clarke laughed.

“You can sneak her in,” she told him.  “Come on!  It’ll be easy!  Emori’s done it.  Go!”

Miller sent her one last look of confusion, and then went running off.

Clarke collapsed back against her pillow, sucking in a few painful breaths.  She barely noticed when Kane came in, taking the seat beside her.

“Is this what I think it is?” she asked.

She didn’t want to say it out loud, didn’t want to jinx it, but a part of her had been wondering since she’d started feeling better.

They called it the surge.  It was a sudden bound of energy that terminally ill patients got, where they seemed to get better before they inevitably got worse.

Kane knew what she meant, as she knew he would.

“We have no way of knowing,” he told her, taking her hand.  “We’ll just deal with whatever comes.”

Clarke nodded, closing her eyes and just breathing through the tightness in her chest.

“Don’t tell Raven,” she said after a while.  “Miller says she’s doing a surgery, and that’s a big step, and I don’t want to ruin it for her.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t tell Roan.  I’ve already hurt him enough.  He shouldn’t have to be here for this.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t tell Murphy or Emori, either.  He’s getting surgery and he shouldn’t have to be worried during it, so don’t say anything to him, and Emori’s already worried enough about that.”

Kane sighed.  “They haven’t started yet,” he told her.  “They can reschedule the surgery.  I’m sure he’d want to.”

“No.”  Clarke shook her head, rolling it on the side to look at him.  “Murphy needs to be back in the OR, and this surgery is going to get him there.  They’re not going to reschedule.”

“Okay,” Kane agreed, and she turned back away so she wouldn’t have to see his sad eyes.

 

She’d made him get the list, the ones patients had to fill out before they went into dangerous operations, what she wanted done if she was on life support.

Raven would take care of Madi.  She was her godmother and she loved her.  They’d be good for each other.

“Life sustaining care shall be withdrawn if signs of recovery are not seen after a period of…” Kane glanced up from the sheet, looking to her for the answer.

Clarke closed her eyes, thinking through her options.  “Thirty days,” she finally answered, and felt Kane press the clipboard and the pen into her hands a few moments later.  She forced her eyes open to initial, and let him take them back.

The sheet filled out, Kane set it aside and held onto her hand.

“You’re a great person,” she told him.  She didn’t know why she couldn’t stop talking.  Every breath, every word hurt so much, but she couldn’t stop talking.  “Everyone’s lucky to have you.  You’re a great chief, even if everyone seems like they don’t appreciate you.”  She paused, taking a few shaky breaths.  “Sometimes I just wish people would see themselves the way I do.”

She paused again, tears starting to leak from her eyes from how much it hurt, even with the morphine.

“Thank you,” Kane said, quiet, and Clarke nodded.

“Listen to me.”  She laughed, and then stopped when it sent a sharp pain through her.  “This is the surge talking, isn’t it?”

Kane shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “It’s you, Clarke.  This is all you.  I’m not going anywhere.”

She nodded, but couldn’t say anything.  It hurt.  Everything hurt.  She didn’t even have the energy to lift her head off the pillow.

Kane kept holding her hand, stroking her hair.  She took shuddering breaths, shallower and shallower, and stared at him as her breaths came slower and her vision started to fade.

“See, Madi?  I told you we were coming to see your—oh my god.”

“Miller, get her out of here.”  Kane’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “She doesn’t need to see this.”

Clarke wasn’t thinking of anything, just the pain in her chest and how hard it was to breath, how hard it was to keep her eyes open.

She heard the machines beeping wildly as if from down a tunnel, the same way she heard Kane yell for a crash cart, the same way she heard Madi screaming out for her.

This time, when her eyes closed, they didn’t open again.

 

She was gone a long time before she died.  Thirty days, if they stuck to her wishes.  Thirty days of darkness, of emptiness, of nothing, and then a light.

_“Come on, Princess.  Wake up.”_

She opened her eyes, blinking up at the figure above her, the light behind them casting them into shadows.

His features came into focus as he held out a hand, and her breath would’ve stopped if she’d been breathing.  His grin was brilliant and perfect, and he was here, wherever here was, and nothing hurt anymore.

She grinned back, grabbing his hand and letting him tug her into an embrace.

_“Bellamy.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry guys


End file.
